Aftermath
by Mozambique
Summary: The city may have burned for three days, but it only took the former Duke of Conte three hours to proclaim himself king. AU where Alanna went to the convent. AG


**AN**: So a long time ago when I used to read every bit of Tamora Pierce fanfic I could find, I got annoyed with all the Alanna goes to the Convent and everything is a-okay. So I started writing one about Thom becoming a knight but where things were very different and things didn't always go according to plans. For instance, Thom never did become friends with Jon, never became Jon's squire, ect… But I didn't do a very good job with it so gave up and eventually deleted it. Then a couple of months ago I had some brilliant insights and planned out how all four of the books would have turned out (or well, the first two and then my sort of made up three and four) and wrote a great deal. Though I kinda skipped around, doing different scenes and all that. Well, basically what happened was I once again lost interest in writing it. What you are about to read is one of the very last scenes in the quartet that I had planned. I don't think it gives too much away, if I ever decide to continue, but I think its fun. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. – Mozambique

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**Aftermath**

The city burned for three days as the earth heaved and shook. Crying filled the air, large heaving sobs that came from the young and the old, the rich and the poor, male and female. There was no more distinction, everyone had been touched by this disaster. Everyone had lost someone; everyone was scared. The magic that had caused this was so thick, that even George's Sight was constantly seeing threads of orange, purple and even the occasional blue gift. He didn't have to wonder about the owners. The city may have burned for three days, but it only took the former Duke of Conte three hours to proclaim himself king.

George was lying in a make shift bed of the blankets he had been able to scrounge up in the shambles of what was once his palace, The Dancing Dove. The Rouge was gone, broken up, scattered and most of his court dead. It seemed like the happy days of his kingship was a lifetime ago, was it really only three days?

Someone was coming, George could sense it and hear faint hoof beats outside. For half a second, he thought about not caring. What did it matter if someone slit his throat? What did it matter if he was robbed? What did he have left anyway? But it was only for the smallest of moments. He slunk into the shadows, dagger held at the ready and muscles tense, ready to strike. The stranger was small, cloaked in a ratty cloth that may have once been green though it was hard to tell with the burn marks and the blood stains. He looked around, taking a few hesitant steps into the destroyed inn; George was about to throw the knife and ask questions latter when his Sight recognized the familiar pattern of the stranger's gift.

"Lady Alanna?" George called out, stepping into the light. The stranger lowered her hood, revealing the young girl. George's heart went out to her, she was a mess. Alanna's face was pale, tear streaks staining her cheeks, a half healed cut above her lip was beginning to scab over. Copper curls fell in disarray from a silver circlet, a sad reminder of what had been lost.

"George?" Her voice sounded small and scared, not at all like the spirited lady he loved. "I didn't think - I didn't dare hope - " George took two large steps and pulled the girl into his arms. He knew the feeling; he couldn't believe that Alanna had made it out of the castle alive. "I thought for sure you were dead."

"Shh," George murmured, stroking her hair and taking comfort in the physical contact. "I'm not."

"Thom is. Jon is. Duke Gareth, Gary. I couldn't find Raoul and Sir Myles is being held in the catacombs."

George let Alanna ramble; this was the closest he had ever seen her to crying. Not that she didn't have reason to be in hysterics, George conceded as he listened to the growing list of people that had been killed in the siege. Both her brother and her husband were dead. Many of her friends. And the one person that she truly feared was now sitting on the throne.

A sudden chill ran up George's spine. Did Roger know Alanna was alive? He wouldn't let her live, if he did.

"How do you feel about Galla?" George asked when Alanna finally stopped and her breathing had calmed a bit. "There are some pretty remote mountain villages where we could set up a home."

"What?" Alanna asked, confused at the sudden change.

"We have to get you out of Tortall, highness," George said as he looked into her violet eyes. He could see her mind trying to fumble its way around the truth of his words. The moment when it did, fear entered her eyes and she gripped George's shirt.

"George," she whispered. "You have to help me."

"I already said I would," George replied shocked at the fear in her voice. Alanna shook her head and opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off. "Look, Alanna, you know I love you. Let me help you. Marry me, we'll settle in Galla or Maren, I'll learn to farm, you can use your gift to heal. We could start over."

"You don't understand," she whispered urgently. "I -" she shook her head ruefully. "I didn't even get a chance to tell Jon, it was all so new."

"Just spit it out Lass."

Alanna took a deep breath, George braced himself. "I'm pregnant, George. With Jon's heir."

George wanted to swear; things would be so much harder now. But as he stood there, with Alanna still resting in his arms, he realized it didn't matter. "Doesn't change a thing, Love," he said, holding her tighter. "Just makes it more important that we get out now. So say you'll come with me? Marry me?"

"Yes," she nodded, a shadow of a smile crossing her lips. "I've always loved you George."

"I know, Alanna. I just wanted to make sure you knew it."


End file.
